The Fog
by BriBriBumbleBee
Summary: She writes about the gray that doesn't seem to go away and wonders if this is something you could compare to the expression of people wearing rose-colored glasses. She never really understood that expression, but if people can see the world in that color then maybe they can explain why she sees more of a dimmer world.


Okay, so I just kinda wrote this today on a whim and I think its alright and I don't own anything.

**The Fog**

She was lonely. There was a big world around her and she didn't belong anywhere or with anyone. She was an outcast by birthright alone.

Where in this world, where you could only belong by acceptance was she to go when there was no one to accept her? The black kids that did exist in her town called her Mariah Carey and the white kids were worse. They threw every derogatory comment her way, she'd been shoved, hair pulled, tripped, even handed bananas and told to act like the ape she truly was.

No teachers were there to guide her on this lonely rocky road. She felt like she was always slipping off the edge, not quite falling, but there was never a sturdy step. Her parents couldn't offer her the guidance she desperately needed, they didn't understand what she was going through.

She remembers her one friend she used to have, before he replaced her. He would tell her that the people in this world that didn't accept her didn't matter, and those who mattered would accept her for herself. She had told him that he was the only one that mattered then, he disagreed. He didn't give her confidence, but he made the day not so sad.

Then Caesar moved in and Huey no longer had the time to tell her the words of wisdom she seriously needed. She remembers the one time she asked if she could sit with them on the hill. Caesar had asked what was wrong with her hair and Huey hadn't corrected him or stood up for her. She can recall the way he merely looked away from her without a response to read in his book. He didn't tell her yes or no, the silence was enough to clue her in to being dismissed. She cried in a way she imagined one would when a loved one passes on.

She recalls the two weeks she spent in her room every day after school and the long weekends. No one came looking for her. No one called, no one worried. She remembers the cooling blade against her wrist and the warm sensation that overcame her arms. She can still feel the temperature of the water in her bathtub and the way the water didn't go from clear to pink, it went from clear to red. She remembers thinking that this would be for the best. She was wasting oxygen in a world where she didn't belong.

She doesn't remember when her eyes closed and she doesn't know when her mother found her. She doesn't have any memory of the ambulance ride or the neighbors that stood on the sidewalk to catch a glimpse of the tragedy. She can't remember her mother screaming and begging and crying for her to hold on.

But if she did have a memory from that time, would she really want to remember that? To remember the way Huey had dropped his newspaper at the sight of an ambulance pulling up in front of his neighbor's house. The look of shock in his eyes when her body had been wheeled out on the stretcher, wrapped in a white blanket that had been stained red?

No, she wouldn't want that memory.

There is still a part of her that wishes she hadn't survived. Because now everyone, meaning her parents, walks on eggshells around her. They think they understand how fragile she is now, but it's being lumped into normal teenager depression. It's a cry for attention to them. They tell her she's beautiful and should accept herself for the way she is. They tell her about what a bright future she has and how happy the world is.

But she can't seem to see past the gray fog.

Besides her parents, no one visits. She hates herself even more for hoping Huey would show up to at least see how she was. He wouldn't have to talk to her, ask her why, tell her that it would all be alright. She would've been fine with his quietness. It was his presence that would've made it okay.

She's talked to by shrinks and they all say depression.

Depression.

Depression.

Major depression. She did try to take her life.

She hears her parents being asked if they had seen any of the warning signs; loss of energy, impaired concentration, insomnia or hypersomnia, no interest in activities, not hanging out with her friends anymore.

She snorts quietly to herself when she hears them deny that they've seen any of that. Of course they hadn't, they were busy at work.

When she's alone with a doctor they ask what she was thinking before she slit her wrist. She plays with the bandages as she simply says, "Huey."

They asked her who Huey is and she tells them that she thought he was her only friend.

They ask her if he is and she tells them no.

They ask her why and she shrugs before saying so casually like it shouldn't be a big deal, "I wasn't replaced because I was never his friend. But he found someone else."

When they ask her to indulge them on that she tries to explain how she doesn't fit in. How she's not white or black and this world is very much black and white. There is nowhere for her to belong.

She's given pills and asks what she thinks of moving. She doesn't think she cares. Wherever she goes she will not belong so she might as well stay. She doesn't want to learn a new address anyway.

She goes home a few days later, it's bright and sunny out but her gray fog shields it away. She has pills to take and a journal she's supposed to fill out. She has stitches on her wrist and has to put a medicine on it and keep it covered with band aids and gauze otherwise they'll scar more prominently.

She doesn't really care but she's going to do as she's told.

She doesn't have to go to school until her stitches are healed and her mother starts working from home. No one leaves her alone for more than forty-five minutes and if she takes a shower her mother has to sit in the bathroom on the toilet. She feels more suffocated by this smothering than she did from the loneliness. She writes that down in her journal.

She also writes how one day she hopes she can talk to Huey again. She's not sure what they'll talk about, but even his silence she misses.

She writes about the gray that doesn't seem to go away and wonders if this is something you could compare to the expression of people wearing rose-colored glasses. She never really understood that expression, but if people can see the world in that color then maybe they can explain why she sees more of a dimmer world.

The pills don't have an effect that it says in the pamphlet. She sees smiling people and people enjoying the world. Those people have found a place to belong. When she looks in the mirror she knows that she will never be one of them.

She cries over the fact that she doesn't look like the people in the pictures.

She has to go speak with her doctor. When she gets in the back of her mother's car she sees Huey and Caesar kicking a soccer ball back and forth, talking about who knows what. Huey catches her eyes and misses the ball. She looks down at her lap as her mother pulls away, she doesn't want to see that he may be laughing at her.

She's told to give the pills more time, but is given a higher dosage in hopes that they'll work faster. She's asked questions about the fog that she admits she doesn't even understand. When she says she has no answer she's told she has to try harder. She asks why and is told that it's because there are people waiting for her in the sunshine.

She thinks that has the same meaning as heading for the light at the end of the tunnel. When she voices it she's told that it does not and the subject is changed to Huey. She picks at the gauze around her wrist and remains silent until she can go home.

Huey is not in his front yard any more when they go home. She hopes they haven't moved back to Chicago due to the embarrassment of their neighbor.

She doesn't sleep that night, and feels like she only closes her eyes when her parents come in to check on her, which is spaced out to three hours so they can sleep. Her ceiling has glow in the dark stars that fade as the night goes on. She remembers putting them up and Huey telling her that she doesn't have a single constellation. She remembers looking them up and getting the big dipper right, but then the little one was at the wrong angle according to Huey. She's not sure why she even bothered to try.

She wants to go outside and breath because her thoughts are suffocating her and she's not sure if she can hold back her screams any longer. She's hot and frustrated and confused. She does not belong in this world and this room is a constant reminder of it all because this is all her stuff. This is the stuff of someone who should be gone.

She won't cut herself again. She was told that was wrong. But she has to get out of this room.

It's twelve-thirty, her mother won't be back in till three. She has time to breath on the roof.

She slowly opens her window and climbs out onto the slanted roof. She knows that the safer place to sit is over the front door so she slowly makes her way over there. When she's settled she lets out a deep breath and then another.

This isn't as relaxing as she wants, but she's not in her room and she still feels better.

She's not sure how long she sits there, but she knows she saw a light go on across the street. It's from the second floor, she believes that's Huey's room, but it's been years since he's let her into his room. He stopped when they were thirteen and Riley made a nasty ho comment. She would've let him into hers, because that's what she believed friends did, but he was no longer her friend. Or was he ever her friend?

"Jazmine?" She hears from down below. When she looks over the edge, careful not to lose her balance, she sees Huey Freeman in the flesh standing down below. She doesn't respond and his frown deepens. "What are you doing up there?" He asks.

She's been wanting for him to talk to her for weeks now, or has it been months really if she considers all the time they didn't talk. Now that he's talking she finds that she really has nothing to say. She leans back into her sitting position and closes her eyes.

She hears his aggravated sigh and then the sound of someone climbing their lattice. Before she knows it he's next to her, sitting in the silence of the night.

Time slips by, she doesn't mention that he has school in the morning and should be in bed.

She's not sure what makes him speak again, because Huey Freeman was always more comfortable with silence than pointless conversation. But he asks, "What happened?"

She thinks about it. What did happen? Her chemicals became unbalanced? She didn't have all the facts on that. She didn't want to bore him with the complications of her brain and her rational thoughts on how she didn't belong and a world without a lost little girl would make more sense than her ambling around aimlessly. She didn't think he'd understand. He belonged after all.

She smiled sadly and shrugged. "I was replaced," came out so quietly she didn't think her heard her, which was fine with her.

"By what?" He was watching her. She wonders if she should just jump off the roof to give him the show he must've come for. When she stays mute he presses, "Jazmine talk to me."

She almost laughs at the request. Talk? Where was he when she needed someone to talk to? He was reading the paper when she cut her wrist. He was playing soccer when she couldn't live up to a pamphlet. Who knows where he's been in the fog, but he wasn't there.

She feels his hand cautiously lie on top of her gauze. "I didn't know," he says and she believes him, because no one knew.

No one knew because no one cared to notice.

"Are we friends?" She asks.

He nods, "Yes."

She pulls her arm away out of his touch. She misses the warmth instantly. "Why did you replace me?"

His scowl changes into a sad sincere look that doesn't seem right on his face. "I didn't replace you."

"You were my only friend." She sees that he's trying to think of something to say and for once, the revolutionist is drawing a blank. "Without you I have no one."

"You have me," he tries to tell her.

"You let him make fun of my hair." There's a fallen tear that she can't lift her arm to wipe away. "Then you replaced me with him."

His eyebrows raise. "I didn't say anything because I thought you could defend your own heritage."

"You didn't look for me."

"Jazmine you didn't see me," he counters. "I tried to get your attention at school and you wouldn't even look up at me. You went straight home and no one answered the door."

There are more tears and she lets them fall. It feels good to let these tears out. These aren't sad tears, she feels a relief wash over her because someone did see her. Someone noticed. Still though, when she was in the hospital...

As if reading her mind he tells her, "Your parents wouldn't let anyone in. I went, Granddad dragged Riley. Even Caesar bought you flowers because he felt really terrible for what he said." He reaches out to wipe the tears away with his thumbs. He holds her face still, continuing to wipe the tears that fall. "But you're parents weren't really sure what was wrong. They panicked, and until they knew what was going on they didn't want us to disturb you." He scooted himself closer. "You have to believe me, I was there every day in that waiting room. When you came home they still didn't let me over. First time I saw you since they took you away was when you went somewhere with your mom today."

He continued to hold her face as they stared at each other. She didn't know what to do or say. This was what she wanted. She wanted Huey to care. But the gray was still in front of her eyes.

"What if I don't get better?" She asks.

"You will," he answers. "Jazmine I can't live in a world where there is no Jazmine." He sounds so honest and desperate that he doesn't really sound like Huey to her, but she knows he's normally a very guarded person. She wonders if this is what a frightened Huey is. She wonders if he even knows his own emotions.

She wants to say something, agree, give him assurance that he's right and she will get better and that he will not have to live in a world where there is no her. But she can't, because the fog leaves her uncertain. Just one person should feel like enough and she can't tell him that right now it's not.

She feels the pressure on her lips before Huey comes into focus in front of her. She blinks once before closing her eyes and kisses him back. There's an odd warmth in her chest that she suspects is her heart, but she's never felt this before and it's all so new. It feels good though, which is better than any of the other feelings she's had in too long of a time.

When he slowly pulls away she smiles kindly at him. The fog is still there, but it seems to of thinned a bit.

"I can't live in a world where there is no Jazmine," he tells her again. "I wasn't there for you, but I am now and I won't go away."

She believes him because Huey's never told a lie to her before. She nods. "I will do my best."

He kisses her again, quickly to confirm it all.

They sit there together until two-thirty and she has to get back into bed before her mother comes to check on her. He promises to come back tomorrow, even if he has to fight past her parents to see her. He helps her into her window before climbing down and jogging across the street. She fakes sleep until her mother leaves and then rolls to face the window. There's a strain in her cheeks because a genuine smile is pulling her lips up. It's been too long since she's smiled, but she can live with this pain.

Weeks go by and her pills begin to work. Huey makes good on his promise and visits, usually daily. He kisses her on her cheek when they watch something on television and kisses her on the lips before he goes home. She confides in him and reads him her journal. She knows she's not stone like him, so she expects him to go easy on her with his thoughts. He encourages her to be stronger and better than what everyone expects.

She finishes the school year at home because she's not ready to go back and no one will be pressuring her to do so.

She meets Caesar properly and finds that they have a common sense of humor. She even goes to cheer him on at one of his soccer games with Huey.

Sometimes she doesn't feel as new and improved as she wants to be, Huey says it's understandable. He tells her that she's Jazmine and she's perfect anyway.

She's relieved when she wakes up one morning and the fog that had been slowly thinning and decreasing is gone and she sees the sunshine. When she looks out the window Huey is outside mowing, the rays beating down on him. She thinks he's the one waiting for her in the sunshine and hurries to tell him so. When he's done mowing he listens and agrees before kissing her.

She's glad she made it to the sunshine.

**Welp, please review!**


End file.
